Xiphoid Process
by Spyridon
Summary: COMPLETE: Trish had heard that there were many ways to a man's heart. Too bad she never paid attention to what was about getting to a woman's heart.


**Author:** lord_spyridon  
**Title:** Xiphoid Process  
**Status:** Complete  
**Pairing(s):** Henry/Trish, unrequited Henry/Abby  
**Additional Categories:** Canon, One-Shot  
**Genre:** Angst, Drama, Violence  
**Season/Episode/Book:** End of Episode 11 'Gasp'  
**Rating:** M  
**Warnings:** Graphic Violence,  
**Spoilers:** N/A  
**Summary:** Trish had heard that there were many ways to a man's heart. Too bad she never paid attention to what was about getting to a woman's heart.  
**Series/Sequels:** N/A  
**Author's Note:** This one-shot is based on the song '_Angels_' by **Within Temptation** from the album '_The Silent Force_', the official video of which you can find on youtube. It has been sitting on my harddrive for a while but considering the one of the elements within the story was an element usually found in and around Halloween, I decided to hold it until today.

Read and review!

* * *

**_Xiphoid Process_**

* * *

She had to get out of the bungalow. If she stayed, there was no doubt in her mind that the serial killer would eventually trap her in one of the rooms and kill her. But if she was able to get outside, her chances of surviving this would increase. Using the chair, she broke the window, the glass shattering outward. Using the palm of her hand, she tried to clear the pane but it was taking too much time.

Trish hit the ground below the window, falling through the brush underneath, the course branches scratching at her open skin. Pushing herself up to her feet and gathering the skirt in her hands, Trish took to the forest, running as fast as she could. Rocks and branches dug into the soles of her feet, pain shooting up the nerves as her feet hit the ground harder. Her breath rattled harshly in her lungs, the cold of the forest seeping into her very soul.

Henry.

Her fiancé had left, thinking someone was outside. What if Wakefield had got to him? Was Henry dead just like the others? Did the killer stabbed him in the back or did he do something else? Trish hoped to God that her man had escaped his wrath somehow and was searching the woods. She had to find and tell him that Wakefield had escaped the prison and was now on the prowl, free.

She tripped, hitting the ground hard. Rocks bit into her hands. Hopelessness came upon her, her breathing getting heavier. She couldn't die here. She had to survive. Henry had to survive. They would get off his island and live happily ever after. It couldn't end like this. She got up again, despair pulling at her with growing intensity.

Then she saw him.

Henry was standing there.

* * *

She should have listened to her father.

When Trish and Henry had informed Thomas Wellington about the wedding, her father had been less enthused about their pending nuptials while her older sister had been happy for younger sister. The older Wellington had kept his mouth curved in a fake smile while the family celebrated and the two sisters planned who to invite, where it would be held (Harper's Island at Henry's request), what color the dresses would be, and the rest of the details. Once Henry left, however, her father had pulled her to the side and asked her if she knew what she was doing.

The whole time, Trish had thought it had been because of his status that he came from lower-middle class family and did not have the pedigree or riches Hunter did. Many times when Trish and Henry had been dating, Trish had tried to show her father the man that Henry was; he worked hard, studied every night, was ambitious to see his plans through, loyal to his friends and family, kind and considerate of her even when she had cheated on him, and was forgiving.

That warning was loud and she had ignored it.

Thinking about it later, Trish's mind flashed back to the day her dad died, remembering the words spoken between the two of them. How angry she had been when her dad had admitted to her that he still did not trust Henry. He preferred to listen to his own instincts over his daughter's decisions. . . .

. . . . Her dad kept a firm grip on her as they walked through the silent forest. The fall from the bike had given her a massive headache that kept her from being able to focus on one thing for long. Her mind cycled through errant thoughts that would randomly pop up in her head. She had let her dad continue to babble on about what he had originally planned for their outing. As they stumbled on, Trish had begun to worry that Henry wouldn't be able to handle the demands of the responsibilities he had taken on so he could allow Trish to have a break.

Her dad had finally noticed that his daughter hadn't responded to his words. "Honey?"

Trish's head jerked around to where her dad was trying to grab her attention, her eyes blinking dazedly. "What"

His joking demeanor gave way to concern as he took stock of her reaction. "Are you-?" Thomas had read where hikers had died to undetected hemorrhaging in the brain from an innocent fall. Was this a sign of hemorrhaging? Was he going to lose his daughter out here on the day of her wedding?

"I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about Henry." Relief spread through Thomas.

"You look worried."

"Dad, he doesn't know the difference between a Leonidas rose and a calla lily. Maggie's probably eating him alive."

"Not much of a meal." He had commented lightly, gazing out into the forest.

Trish had chuckled darkly at her father's off-handed comment, her anger beginning to burn at him brushing off her fiancé again. So she had confronted him. "I thought we were past this."

"Past what?"

"You not liking the man I'm marrying _tomorrow_."

"I like Henry. He's ambitious, works hard, loves you, he's . . ."

"Just from the wrong side of the marina." Trish had interrupted, her anger seeping through her attempts to rein it in.

Her dad had always prided himself on being one of those people who never discriminated on social classes so she knew he would became a little angry at the accusation and he proved her right. "That has nothing to do with anything."

"Then what is it?" Trish had stopped, forcing her father to look at her. Her dad just sighed and walked a bit further away. "Really."

He turned back around, dropping the act that he liked Henry. "I don't trust the boy." Trish had scoffed, rolling her eyes at her dad's admission. "Gut instinct."

"So you trust your own intestines more than your daughter?"

"My instincts have gotten me where I am today."

"Yeah, well, your instincts suck, Dad." Trish had bit out. Her father didn't say anything as he turned around to continue walking. Stung by the fact that he didn't trust her decision, Trish called out. "You married Katherine."

Her dad chuckled as he looked back at her. "I thought we were past _that_."

Trish had nodded. "She's cheating on you." The feeling of self-satisfaction rose up in her as she watched the smirk on her dad's face melt off, disbelief replacing it. "With Richard." The silence stretched between them. Slowly, the victory became increasing hollow as time passed. "Sorry." The last word had been expressed with more sympathy than vengeful.

Thomas swallowed, not sure of what to say. . . .

. . . . Afterward, Trish had felt awful for throwing that in her dad's face when he had been trying to protect her. Hindsight is 20/20, they say. Too bad it wouldn't save her now. She had been reeled in by his mask, drawn in with his charisma. Henry had been quiet, funny, strong, and compassionate and her heart had overruled her emotions. She had finally thought that Henry was her Prince Charming, the man she would marry, have kids, and grow old with. Beneath that mask, at times when he became angry enough, you saw a glimpse of the volatile temper, the monster hidden behind those expressive brown eyes.

That should have been her first warning.

There had been that one night when they were still college students, after they had decided to get back together after the Hunter debacle that she first caught the monster underneath and didn't realize the danger then.

They had gone to a bar near the college, had been hanging out with their friends. The night had been wearing on, everything was getting rowdier the drunker the crowd got. Through it all, Trish had been asked out by many men for a dance despite her practically sitting on Henry's lap, his arm holding her tightly around the waist. She ignored it, talking animatedly with Beth and the others, rolling her eyes at Danny and Sully's antics.

A burly man, older than her by ten years at least had begun to rudely comment on Henry's sexuality, calling him a faggot and pussy. It boiled to a point when Sully had commented back, defending his friend's honor. The man had taken exception to that and approached their table. Henry had glared at Sully for inciting the man further but he still made no move to protect himself. That changed when the man had grabbed her by the neck roughly and thrown her to the floor. The next thing she knew was the man had joined her there, his jaw broken and missing a couple of teeth scattered along with shards of broken glass, the alcoholic liquid splattering everywhere.

Henry had gently picked her up and they had left.

The next day, Henry had passed it off as him being overprotective of his girl. Trish had swallowed it all, hook, line, sinker as Henry had massaged the bruise on her neck where the brawler had damaged her skin. It wasn't love. It wasn't protection. It was a predator staking his claim, angered of having another touch his property. And it didn't forgive, it didn't forget.

A few months later, near their graduation, she had heard from the locals that the man had been found dead in his apartment, apparently from a severe beating. Henry had commented that maybe someone had cracked and decided to do him in. The bartender and the comers around them had agreed, chatting about the man's penchant for trouble. One of the locals had commented that the brawler had gotten in trouble the night before at a biker's club and tried to hit on one of the biker's girlfriends.

Looking back now, the expression on Henry's face had been less of pleasant surprise and more smug satisfaction.

* * *

As her eyes fell on him, she could see that Henry hadn't been attacked by Wakefield. Her emotions boiled over, her body crashing. "Trish." He called out in surprise and worry, opening his arms to receive her as she threw herself at him.

"Oh, oh, my god." She brokenly stuttered out, trying to dig herself deeper into his body, needing to know that he was really there and not some figment of her imagination. His body was warm, the wool of his turtleneck soft.

"I've got you. It's okay. It's okay." Henry murmured his voice soft as he took her into his embrace.

"I thought he killed you."

"I'm fine. I'm fine.

"Wakefield's escaped." Trish drew back, needing to tell him what had happened at their bungalow. "Henry, Wakefield escaped. We have to go." She tugged at him, needing to get as far away from Wakefield as possible before he could find them together. There was no doubt in her mind that Henry would move to protect her and she knew that if he did that, he would die along with the others. If he died, she'd die with him.

"I know." The calm answer stopped her in her tracks. Confused, Trish turned around to look at her fiancé. "I gave him the key." He confessed, his hands gripping her elbows, his dark eyes burrowing into hers.

The admission threw her already tumbling thoughts further into chaos, her mind trying to process what he was telling her. "What?"

"Sully was right. Wakefield has an accomplice. It's just not Jimmy."

Her eyes fell down, taking in the easy stance, the solemn expression on his face. "No. No."

Henry reached for her again, her arms rising up to bat them away. "Look I know how hard this must be for you." He said, trying to grasp her wrists.

"No, you're lying." She screamed, struggling against him. Turning around, she tried to run again but her feet got caught in the edge of the dress, the very dress that she would have worn at their wedding, with _him_. She fell to the ground, feeling drained, burdened by what Henry had revealed to her. Crying, she tried to crawl away from the man that she would have married, would have devoted the remainder of her natural life to.

"Trish, stop it. Stop it. Trish." The sounds her crying was getting on his nerves. Henry bent down and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her up to her feet. She cried harder, her right hand reaching back to free her hair. "Stop it." He commanded harshly, not wanting to see her cry anymore. "Don't make this harder than it is. It had to happen at our wedding. I needed everyone here. You see?" He pleaded with her, trying to make her understand.

"You killed them." She whispered. "You killed my father . . . and JD. Oh . . . oh, my god." The realization that he had killed their friends, her dad with that thing in the church hit her fully. He was the reason her dad had been killed in such a violent manner in front of her niece, in front of her. Through it all, he had acted as if he was sorry for her loss when _he_ had been the one who helped orchestrate the murder. The disbelief gave away to anger.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. They had to go." He told her, his lips lying against the side of her face. "It was part of the plan. But I really wanted to give you the wedding."

The anger sparked into rage. She couldn't believe him. "You bastard. You bastard." Trish ripped her hair from his grasp, twirling around to slam her open palms against his chest. "YOU BASTARD!" Trish screamed, hitting him with her fists. He followed her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She tried to hurt him as much as he did to her, bringing her fists down on him. Through her anger, she never saw the knife in his hand. Never read the danger when he stepped forward to hug her again.

"It's not fair." Henry slid the knife into her back, right under the ribs. She gasped, her body stilling in shock as the pain speared all the way to her brain. He looked into the distance, hearing her gasp as she died, her lungs trying to take in air. "It's not fair." He carefully laid her down on the ground. She looked at him in the eyes, betrayal marked on her face.

As the blood drained emptied from her arteries, her mind flashbacked to the events leading up to the wedding and how Henry was overprotective of Abby. Despite being his fiancée, Henry was more frantic over when it looked like Abby had been the one that was lost. He had no qualms when Trish had volunteered to go with him to go search for her niece. But when Abby volunteered, Henry had balked, telling her she should stay behind. At first, Trish had thought it been because Henry believed her to be capable of defending herself.

Looking back on it now, Trish now knew that Henry was ensuring the safety of the woman he loved and to make sure she never found about his homicidal activities.

She remembered Henry studying human anatomy while he was in college. For hours and hours each week, he had put time and effort into the class, memorizing all of the body parts and systems and learning their functions. Trish had laughed at him one weekend, wondering why he put so much effort into a class that wasn't even a GE requirement for his bachelor's. He had only smiled and continued with his studying. From her time with him, Trish knew that the sternum was made of the three small bones; the manubrium, the body, and the xiphoid process. They were meant to protect the heart, lungs, and major blood vessels of the chest cavity from phsyical trauma. Too bad, they couldn't do anything to prevent the literal knife in her side and the ghostly one stabbing into her heart.

As she took in her last breath, Trish could see Henry staring down at her, his dark eyes oddly shining. The coldness began to seep into her body, her senses shutting down one by one. As the darkness crept over her vision, a glimmer twinkled in the dim light of the forest; her wedding band glowed, the physical remnants of his promise to her, a promise that was now broken.

A roar sounded in her ears, Trish feeling as if she had been jerked violently.

The next thing she knew, she was standing over Henry who was still cradling her in his arms. A translucent tear trickled down her cheek as Henry withdrew the blade from her cooling flesh with a wet slurp. Movement at the end of the trail had him and her turning around to see Wakefield standing there.

"Hey, dad." He greeted calmly before looking back down into the face of his dead fiancée.

_Dad?_ Trish wondered, her eyes flicking between the man who had killed her and the serial killer. Henry was Wakefield's son? The cold truth settled heavily in her stomach as she studied the two men, she saw the small resemblance between them. He had Wakefield's jaw, his lean body type, his dark eyes. The only thing he seemed to inherit from Abby's mother was her hair color.

"You cared for her." Trish wanted to scoff at Wakefield's words. If Henry had really cared for her, he wouldn't have killed everyone she loved. He wouldn't have killed JD in cold blood and let him suffer as he bled out on the docks for Abby to find.

Henry lifted his head up at his father's words. "She was harder than the others." He admitted.

"She served her purpose. Nothing else matters." If Trish had been alive, she would have smacked the shit out of Wakefield but she was dead now. There was nothing she could do to save Shea, Madison, Sully, Abby, and Jimmy. They didn't know that the wolf had been among the sheep the whole time, had been the one to watch over them, waiting for his time to strike.

"I know. Danny put up much of a fight?"

"He didn't embarrass himself. Trish's sister and the girl got away." At those words, Trish wanted to cry in relief. At least her sister and niece were still alive. There was hope that what remained of her family would survive. There was a chance now the Coast Guard was on their way to rescue them.

"Henry!" The ghost watched as Henry and his father looked up, hearing Abby's calls coming from behind the former fiancé. "Trish!"

Trish barely heard Henry update his father on what happened in the shack. "Coast Guard's on their way. We only have a couple of hours." The two men headed up to higher ground, knowing that the young couple were following the trail they were on but Trish stayed, waiting to wait for Abby and Jimmy. Sooner or later, they would stumble upon Trish's body lying right in the middle of the path, easy to see dressed in her white wedding ground, no matter if it was dirtied by the run through the forest. Trish had to find a way to warn them but as the men continued to climb, she felt herself being forced to follow them against her will.

Stomping the ground in frustration, Trish turned and ran silently after them. The two live humans and one dead one looked down as the Abby and Jimmy found Trish's body, neither of them knowing they were being watched from above.

"Now is your time. Everything that we planned, you know what you have to do." Trish heard Wakefield whisper into his ear.

She watched Henry stare down at his half-sister and the man she loved, wondering how she fell in love with him. "I have to kill Abby." What kind of a fucked up brother is that, wanting to kill his own sister after killing everyone for her? Even as she thought it, she knew that Henry would not go through that. Horror began growing in her.

He wouldn't kill her.

No, he was going to do something that was even worse.

Henry was going to lure her in, using her grief to get close to Abby. That was why he had put the suspicion on Jimmy. He would go to jail and Abby would hate him for killing her dad and everyone else. He would act like the grieving fiancé and close friend.

"No! You stay away from them!" Trish screamed but he never heard her, continuing to stare as Abby and Jimmy headed off to search for Henry. "Damn you, you won't take Jimmy away from her. Haven't you already caused enough grief?"

* * *

Trish wanted to cheer as Abby ran through the forest, increasing the distance between her and Henry. She had stayed behind long enough to see Jimmy begin to remove the handcuffs around his wrists using the wall attachment as a lock pick. There was hope that Jimmy and Abby would get off the island. Watching Henry kill Sully was unbearable as she watched in hopelessness. After he had died, Trish had asked for forgiveness from him, both of them staring at his body while Henry and Wakefield talked.

"It wasn't your fault, Trish." Sully had told her, his blue eyes solemn. "We were all tricked by him."

"I'm the one that wanted to marry him. I should have known." Trish wiped at the ghostly tears. Sully's strong arms wrapped around her, offering her comfort she didn't she had been craving since her death.

"Don't blame yourself for a deranged killer's actions." Sully said before his arms started to disappear.

"Where are you going?" Trish had called out as her friend continued to grow dimmer and dimmer.

"Moving on, I guess. There's a light." She had heard the awe in his voice even as it started to fade, Sully turning around as if something was calling him. "We'll wait for you. Don't take too long, girl." He had said before disappearing all the way.

"Stop! Would you . . . ?" Henry shouted as he climbed down the steep slope. Coming back to the present, Trish saw as Henry slipped and slammed into the tree at the bottom of the incline. "If anyone is else on the island, they're miles away."

"She's not going to give in so easily, Henry. You should have known that." Trish remarked, smugness filling her as Henry's plans began to fall apart completely.

"Abby wait." Henry followed her, pain from where she had stabbed him with the screwdriver showing on his face. Every step up the stair was agony, Trish could tell. "Abby!"

The cliff they came to overlooked the bay where they had played as children, the house where Abby had lived with her parents sitting quietly at the top on the other side, nestled among the trees. Trish had been there a few time over the years, visiting with Henry. The last time had been the day before the killings years ago. They had left the morning of as her dad had a meeting to go to on the mainland. It had been her last visit to the island as well.

"Abby stop." He pleaded, his left hand beckoning her to calm down. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"Of course not, Henry, you didn't want her to know that you're the reason why everyone's dead and that you're her brother." Trish stated angrily. "Life just isn't like that. I should know." Like usual, neither of them heard the ghost watching them.

"I know what you did. You told Jimmy you'd kill me if he didn't sign a confession."

"Abby, I could never hurt you. Everything that I've done, I did for us. I die without you."

"Might as well as kill yourself now." Trish commented, knowing that any moment Jimmy would appear. He sure was taking his sweet time getting there.

"Is that why you have that boarding knife?"

Turning her head, Trish saw Henry look at the weapon in his hand. He glanced at Abby and without a thought, threw it over the side of the cliff. Abby followed its fall with her eyes. If Abby had been able to hear her, Trish would have warned her about the pocketknife in his back pocket. "There. Now, do you believe me? You and this island are my home. You're the only thing that makes sense to me."

"None of this makes sense. You destroyed everything I ever loved."

"No, but you have me!"

"I don't want you!"

Despite what had happened to her, Trish couldn't help but feel slightly sympathetic for Henry. That feeling quickly died within her when she remembered that Henry didn't know what it felt to have your lover kill you after making love with you and telling you that they loved you. "Karma's a bitch."

Her and Abby's eyes flicked to where she saw Jimmy leap over the fallen tree trunk, arms going around Henry's middle. The inertia he picked up would not be denied and carried them both over the edge. The last thing she saw was Abby covering her eyes as the thumps of the bodies hitting the ground reached her. Trish appeared on the beach, seeing that Jimmy had landed further from the base of the cliff as he had been moving when he hit Henry. Unlike Jimmy, it seemed Henry had made it through the fall without any  
injuries that prevent mobility.

He was already moving as Abby ran to Jimmy's side. "Jimmy! Jimmy! Are you okay?" Abby asked him, her hands cradling his head as he turned to look at her with a dazed expression. It was at this moment that Trish knew everything was going to be determined here.

She hoped it was Henry who paid the debt that was due.

"No." Jimmy croaked out. Trish watched as Abby saw his eyes close for a moment before opening, his pupils moving to the side; the gravel behind her crunched underfoot. His head shot up as the realization struck them both. Abby turned, her right hand instinctively reaching out for the discarded boarding knife lying abandoned right next to Jimmy. As she stood up, her hand swung it upward, her left hand falling to the pommel to drive it in all the way.

The blade bit deep into Henry's stomach, entering all the way through and coming out his back.

Henry looked down at the weapon embedded in his body in shock. Abby gasped as she realized what she had done.

Trish watched on in sadness, knowing the next few minutes would be at a great emotional cost to the woman Trish had barely begun to see as a sister. She knew Abby would feel guilty that she killed her own brother despite everything he had done, thinking that she should have found a way to save him. She could only hope that Jimmy would make Abby realize that Henry was beyond saving the moment he decided to kill his first victim.

"Abby?" Henry asked, his legs collapsing underneath him. Abby's hands were unable to let go of the handle as she followed him down, shocked at what she had done. Tears came to his eyes, the monster in him bleeding away to reveal the broken child underneath, his eyes wide with pain and incomprehension. "But . . . I love you." He confessed one last time to her in a broken voice, his eyes tearing at the realization that his dream would not come true. His gaze locked with Abby, hoping that all of this was a mistake even as his blood seeped from between his fingers.

"Sometimes love's not enough." Trish said softly.

As the second ticked away, Henry felt his strength draining away, a heavy feeling settling down on his senses as the blood continued to drain from his body. He slowly collapsed on himself, his body falling to the side. The water lapped around him, the brown strands of his hair floating like a dark halo around his head.

Henry looked down at his body lying on the beach, the waves moving languorously around his skin. It shouldn't have been like this. He had planned everything out. Jimmy should have been the one to take the fall before dying and he and Abby would have been able to leave the island without her knowing what he had done. He would have played the widowed lover for a few months until the publicity died down and then he would have slowly pulled Abby in. But his dad had to ruin everything when he had called out for him to go after Abby. Sully shouldn't have said anything either. His hands tightened as Jimmy carefully sat up and pulled the sobbing Abby into his arms, comforting her while both of them didn't look at his physical remains.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Startled, Henry turned around to see Trish standing there, watching him, her sad dark eyes boring into his. "You love someone with all you have and when they chose someone over you, its hurts so much." She tilted her head at him. "You were given a choice, one that you didn't know you had. You could have chosen a different path, Henry. The Dunns may have hidden the truth from you but they loved you despite knowing who your dad was. You had family and friends who cared for you. Sully came back for you and you killed him. JD was your brother and you killed him. Your dad did nothing but kill your mother, your parents, wanted to kill Abby for what she represented, and for what?

"I loved you, Henry. I would have been glad to have your kids, nursed you back to health if you were sick, helped you up if you fell, been there if you needed me. I was ready to be at your side as we grew old together. It was too bad you never really saw what you had." Trish continued. "If you really had loved her, you would have let her go a long time ago."

"You don't understand. She wished that we could have been along on that island forever." Henry started but Trish was already shaking her head.

"It was a child's wish, Henry. She grew up and moved on. You never did." The distinct lines around her body began to fade and Trish knew what was happening. "I want to hate you, Henry, but I can't. The only thing I feel for you is pity, pity that you wasted your life and for the pain you've caused so many."

Henry realized she was fading away. He turned toward her, panic filling his features. "No! Don't leave me!" He moved toward her but each new step did not bring him closer to the woman he could have married and had a life with had he not chosen the same path as his father. Scenes of a possible future drifted across his mind; his dad in jail for the crimes he committed, Abby reuniting happily with her father, Trish and him marrying, Shea eventually divorcing Michael and keeping Madison, Trish pregnant with their first child. The scenes kept on coming, causing Henry to hyperventilate. Abby pregnant with her first kid, him standing as godfather for her son, JD and Kelly eventually marrying in a gothic-styled wedding; Henry moaned in pain, collapsing to his knees. "Trish, don't leave me here." The final scene was the entire combined family at a rejuvenated Harper's Island. There were a few kids carrying his hair, his eyes, Trish's face. A small Scully-like child hollering as he led a pack of children toward the water. Madison was scaring the little ones with help from a mellowed JD.

"I never did leave, Henry. You did."

One of the dark-haired children turned around, his chocolate brown eyes dancing merrily with the light and innocence of the untainted young. Henry looked on in hunger. The child continued to run along with the others and jumped into the arms of an older Trish, her face weathered with time and work. Beside her, an older Henry was sitting, laughing as he held a small bundle in his arms.

It wasn't possible. His dad had told him that such things were illusions, dreams that would never come true. "He told me that it would be better to get rid of them all. They would only hurt in the end, just like _she_ did." Henry mumbled, eyes flicking wildly around, trying to find answers.

"He lied to you, Henry. All he wanted was for you to be just like him. He wanted to get back at your mother and you fell for it." Trish answered. "You could have had it all, Henry, but you never fought for it. I'm heading to be with my family and friends. You've made your choices. Goodbye Henry." Trish softly said, fading into the light that was beckoning her.

She was home.

* * *

A TV turned on, the screen showing static. A hand placed a VHS tape into the player, the machine clanking as it moved the tape in deeper, the film getting ready. A finger pushed one of the buttons and the player began rolling the film. Trish's face came up on the screen, her hand holding a glass of champagne. Her face was glowing, happy with the fact that by the end of the week, she would be married. "Henry bear, baby face, I love you and can't wait to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you."

The tape played on, face after face showing up. Faces of friends that would no longer move, no longer laugh, no longer cry, no longer smile, no longer move; all of them were now buried under six feet of dirt, their young lives interrupted violently, ended tragically. When they were filmed, they never knew of the horrors that were waiting on the island, did not know that events were already in play even as their boat waited on the dock. They never knew the first victim had been killed while they chatted on board the vessel as it made its way to the island.

The last one to appear was Henry's, his face dominated by the smile stretching his lips, the smile of someone who knew a secret and wouldn't tell. "Hey baby, you're probably sick of hearing but I love you. And I'm going to treat every moment with you as if it were my last. Let's get married, huh?"


End file.
